Our Aspergers Teenage Boy

Mom reports: I must be in the wrong house. Sarah just went in Tommy’s room to help him with his schoolwork. This couldn’t be MY children (who fight like cats and dogs) cooperating and helping each other.

Mom reports: For the first three months of the school year I had to stand beside Tommy and walk him through all his assignments. After that he started actually working independently and eventually he got to a point where he was doing a good deal of work each week. He has been back in school one month and has stopped working completely. He has now been sitting at his desk for 2 1/2 hours and written nothing. He is infuriating when he refuses to do things that you know he can do and should be able to do quickly. Doug and I are frustrated and Tommy seems to be having a very good time. I just want to cry. There is no future for someone who refuses to anything but eat, read and sleep. I feel like we’ve tried everything and all we do is fail. I should never have put him back in the school system. It was lazy and selfish of me to want to spend time working with Amy for a while.

Mom reports: Tommy will never succeed in this school system. We lack the economic choices that others have so I ask this question knowing that I won’t find the answers I seek. “Where does Tommy belong?” Is there a school out there that could reach his mind. A mind full of intelligence but wrapped in barriers and insulation that only someone with great skill and even greater compassion could penetrate.

Dad reports:
Shortly after I left the bus pulled in. Instead of going to the school I came back into the cove and heard the bus honking its horn. I ran instead to find Tommy desperately stuffing his school bag full of his D&D stuff and toys. A quick cleaning of the contraband and he was on his way. I didn’t do a thorough job so something may have made it.

I later found that he left the milk on the table and it appears his breakfast was interupted by the bus.

Dad reports this morning:
Tommy is refusing to get ready. Seems he wants a fight. Instead of a fight I let the clock make his decision for him. He knows any minute we leave so the opportunity to fight is over and he begins to get dressed.

Dad reports yesterday/last night:
I’ll need to come back to this.